Black Feather
by Dysis Armorithia
Summary: 50 years have passed and a new alliance has formed. In order to keep peace, the image of a Contractor has changed as well as there story. A new wave of 'Messengers' have come to raise a the story of one, who share's a silent secret with a legend.


Black Feather

**Black Feather**

"What year was it?" She asked.

"1983…September I believe…maybe the 17th…" Was his reply.

"Can you tell me your name?" She asked something again.

"…." Silence.

"Well?" She didn't have much for patience.

"No…No I can't…" He said to her, disappointment present in his voice.

"Why not?" She sounded amused.

"Because I don't remember it…." Was just what he had said before he was pulled into the darkness once more.

**Chapter 1 – project tojiko**

It was raining out this morning. The sound of the tea pot was whistling through the house. It wasn't a big place, small kitchen window and one sink. A small flower pot sat empty, as if waiting for someone to simply plant something in it. There was big smiley face, and the words 'Happy Day' hand-painted on it. The kitchen was a plain white, with a black trim theme. There wasn't anything special except for an ugly painting of a roaster hanging across from the sink on the wall. Under it was a small table that was only big enough for two people and two chairs. There was a small fridge and a stove tucked away beside the sink. It was small, but big enough for a door outside and a doorway into the living room.

As he entered the room, one thing was always the same about him. He stood at around 6'1" and was weighing in at around 220 pounds, but don't get anything wrong. None of it was fat. He was muscle, but because he was so tall, he looked rather lanky and weak when he was dressed. He always was wearing the same thing, never seemed to change. Black shiny dress shoe's always with a lace. They always had to be tied in a perfect bow on his face and always had to have 3 eyelets. He made sure, because he always counted before he would buy them. His pants were black, tailored to his size and shape. There was always a steam crease in the front and back, like he had just gotten them out of the dry cleaners.

His jacket was a flat black suit jacket. Pockets on the outside and no breast pocket over his left side. It was smooth against his frame, as the sleeves seemed a bit short, as the cuffs of his white button down shirt seemed to peek out just by half an inch. Always the same and he never seemed to get a larger size. His shirt was always tightly tucked in and buttoned up to the very top, as his black tie was done perfectly and rested along the buttons, the tip touching the silver buckle of his belt. He was perfect for a black and white movie. He wore no jewelry, all but one personal item which he still to this day, has told no one what it meant. A simple silver band around his ring finger on his right hand. Plain and simple looking with a weak shine.

His skin was slightly pale, he was never one to simply go out and get some sun. As many would say. No, it wasn't his taste and he wasn't about to change simply because someone remarks of his lack of color. He had enough color just in the area's that meant something. He had gotten many compliments about his complication. His face was always smooth shaven, with a narrow but firm jaw line. He had no marks along his face. His eyes were different. Something like out of a story, so many shades of purple created his eyes. Like that of a dream, making it sometimes impossible not to stare.

His hair was of two shades of purple, and seemed to be like a mess of layer's as it was always looking it was tossed around. It wasn't short; it reached down half way past his ears if it was down flat and tamed, but he didn't care to do it. He wasn't out to impress anyone and quite frankly, his hair as it was, made him feel just a bit more close to being human. Either way, he reached out for his mug and filled it with black coffee as he raised it to his lips and drank it as is. He didn't many who made coffee in a tea pot, but then again he didn't associate out of work. No need for it.

He finished his drink and took a glance at his wrist watch. "Hmm…" He would be on time as usual, even early. He placed his mug in the sink, there were a few of them there already needing someone's attention for a good old fashion wash. He grabbed his keys and headed out the back door from the kitchen. Once outside, he walked directly towards an all black motorcycle. Why he had decided on this instead of a car, well, mobility. He hated traffic; it was a peeve to have to wait for it. Normally, he had very good patience for things, but traffic was not one of them. He found it unnecessary. So, he had gotten a Suzuki GSX1300 Hayabusa, all black. Nothing was silver or had anything flashy as some other people would have it. It looked like your typical crotch rocket actually.

But it wasn't typical at all. You see, it had a few personal touches, but there wasn't time to dwell on those right now. He couldn't be late for his meeting. A black helmet slipped onto his head as he put on a pair of black sleek gloves. He opened and closed his hands, making the leather from them whine with strain as he sat on his bike. Turning the key, the sound of the engine coming to life was all he needed before he pushed back the kick stand and took off from his driveway and into the street.

To him, it wasn't the bike moving but the world around him. Being on this bike, being out free on the road, it made him feel like time had froze around him. Like he was stuck in one spot and the world would move for him. Weaving and turning so that it would bring his destination to him, instead of him going to it. It was a strange feeling, and it was probably his own, but he couldn't be amazed each time he rode, and that was an emotion that was a task all on its own.

He pulled into the underground garage of the hotel. He didn't bother with vale, he rather know where he parked and in what condition. He didn't need any young punk's hands all over what isn't there's. Finding a spot, he parked it and locked it up. Slipping the key into his right pocket. He slipped the helmet off and tied it down as well to the back of the bike, but never removed his gloves. No, instead he had decided to best keep them on at this moment and just get upstairs. As he walked through the half empty garage, and was heading towards the elevator, he could hear the whine of a camera moving. Never did his eyes shift to see it, but he knew it was there.

Once inside the elevator, he pushed the button for the center floor, level 5, and waited in the center of the small boxed area. The elevator continued up, without stopping. Good, he hated the company of strangers. There was no elevator music playing, you know, the kind that always seemed to play at the worst moment and get seriously stuck in your head. It could be annoying but you just can't stop thinking about it and humming it for the rest of the day or until something more annoying plays and you hear it. Yep, he hates that to. Not a lot to like in this world anymore. Nope, not much.

The sound of a bell told him he had reached the 5th floor and as the doors opened he stepped out into the hallway. He took a right from the elevator and walked down 5 rooms. Stopping to look at the room number before him. It was 55, the same room number that had been carved into a small wood chip and mailed to him from this hotel. It was a charming way to tell him there was a meeting and he had to be there. Good thing his mail man wasn't usually late with important things like that or he would have been pretty screwed on the bills this month.

He reached down and tested the knob with a turn. The sound of the door clicking told him that it was unlocked, which also told him screw the knocking. He opened it all the way and stepped inside closing the door behind him.

Darkness.

The lights were off and the curtains were shut tight. Even though it was bright morning, those curtains were pretty thick and blocked the sun out very well. He was very quiet, letting his eyes adjust from the sudden loss of light. Once he was focusing more, he began to take in small details of the room. Such as a bed, table, lamp and even a woman. Yeah, he saw her leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed. She didn't seem too happy, which was why she was turning the lights on and making his relaxed eyes jerk shut. He grumbled, reaching up with his hand and rubbing them to try and just to the shock of change.

"Was that really necessary?" He asked her as she sighed. "Do I appear to care to you pain?" She asked him as he sighed. That was Tara, she was his informant from the Agency. She was the one who contacted him when there was a job to be done and it was her who made sure the funding was then paid. He never contacted her unless it was something drastic, which as of right now, has been a 0 to 0 record. He would rather keep it that way seeing as she was one angry woman.

She was only around 5'5" and must have been weighing in at around 120 pounds give or take. She was rather petit with black hair cut like a bob, the back cut higher then the front. She had these pretty brown eyes that went well with the beauty mark under her left eye. She didn't have much for breasts, but the mounds were there just to let you know there was least something. She wasn't the most beautiful woman, but she was a woman and she wasn't ugly, just average. Just don't tell her that, she would throw something at you before she shot you in the balls.

He sat himself down in one of the chair's in the hotel room as he adjusted the ends of his jacket to better fit while he sat. "So…" He said simply and she tossed him a folder. He opened it. "Tojiko, you got that look." She said and he raised his purple eyes to her. "What look?" He asked and she smiled. "That's just it…You have nothing, no smile, no disgust…Not even a sadistic sign of amusement…Just…blankness…" She said and he looked back at the folder as she flipped the paper. "If you don't like, you can always call someone else." He said and Tara frowned at him.

"You know, I am not quite sure why I tolerate you….One must because of your appearance. I don't deny, the second is you do your job and you do it right, but don't push me, because I can replace you." She said in warning and he closed the folder and sat it on his lap. "Then do it…" he said. For the next few seconds the room seemed to fill with tension as the two appeared to be staring at one another. Silence was so think, that someone could joke on it. Tojiko broke the silence as he opened up the folder again. "Right…" He said.

Tara's face turned red as she crossed her arms. That was a dangerous move for him. She could in fact do exactly what she said. Replace him, and in the end it meant his own death. Least he wouldn't have any bills, but then who would water his plants? Tojiko finally closed the folder and tossed it onto the table while he got up. "I will leave the item where it needs to be found when I am done. Begin checking starting Friday Night." He said and simply left the room before Tara could say anything.

"Damn you…" Tara said with a smirk of satisfaction on her face.

By the way, I must not have told you. It's to late now, but my name is Tojiko. Yep, that's pretty much it. I don't have a last or middle name. Is it my real name? Who knows, but if I had one, I probably wouldn't want to remember it. It would make this life a whole lot harder for me then it already is. Either way, it's better for him. He wasn't no James Bond or Get Smart so who needed a full identity anyway? I can tell you this, it made getting a library card so freaking hard though.


End file.
